Text Visual Video / Charles Moulton

Posted on June 18, 2017 by Charles Moulton

I’d shown some video at the fundraising party and talked about my work. There’d been some interest and a few leads to follow up on. During a break in the action, I wandered down a hallway looking for the bathroom. The house was a collection of white marble buildings nestled into a magisterial hillside. Could you even call it a house? Each room was a ‘pod’ connected to the others by glass walkways. The bathroom was a vast, bare space much larger than my apartment with walls cut from solid basalt. Rather than a sink, a solid gold spigot projected from one corner directly onto the floor where, cut into white marble, was a single drain hole. The toilet, or what I thought was the toilet, was an enigmatic grey cube placed directly in the center of the room. A digital control pad on it’s side flashed indecipherable symbols. The top of it seemed completely solid until a discreet black hole mysteriously appeared with a whisper. It was a very small hole, – a dangerously small hole – clearly not meant for use when standing. I unbuttoned my pants, carefully lined myself up and sat down. Sensing my weight, a small female voice asked how I wanted to end my session – hot air, steam, auto dry, or self dry? I wasn’t sure how to respond. I hadn’t begun my session. I noticed nozzles embedded in the walls. Was I going to get a shower? Faint music drifted in from the party. The little voice asked again how I wanted to end my session. I wasn’t sure. Nothing had happened. The obliquely angled black walls leaned in. Hidden lights in the floor gently pulsed. I was sweating.

It was flop sweat.

I was acutely aware that my natural processes, with their aural and olfactory accompaniment, were painfully out of place. Nothing in this cutting- edged environment induced a state of ‘letting go’. No cues were present encouraging me to relinquish control and get my business done.

My grandmother had a tiny bathroom at the very back of her boarding house painted entirely pink. To get to it, you had to walk down a dark, rickety tool hall where they’d locked up my Grandfathers knives after he’d gone mad. The toilet seat was covered with bright pink terry cloth and there was a picture of Jesus descending from heaven. It embodied everything that is good about bathrooms – being held in a snug, safe place and being encouraged to surrender to higher powers.

The female voice asked again how I wanted to end my session. Was this dialogue really necessary? I could hear the party moving forward. I needed to get back. A violent sucking noise occurred as I stood up and walked out of the room. I found a floor length window, slid it open and went outside. Laughter and voices filtered through the underbrush.

Charles Moulton is an award-winning Choreographer, Visual Artist and Writer living in Oakland, California. He has created works on dance companies all over the world and is particularly known for his signature work Ball Passing which can be performed by dancers and non-dancers alike. His visual art has appeared at galleries in Oakland and at the Center for Creative Photography in Tucson, AZ. He began his career dancing with Merce Cunningham, is a Founding Co-Director of Performance Space 122 and is currently Co-Artistic Director of Garrett + Moulton Productions in San Francisco.